


something to live for

by inlovewithimpossibility



Series: cerys' quarantine and chill fics [15]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bratva (Arrow TV 2012), Bratva Oliver Queen, Coffee Shops, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Quarantine and Chill Fic Drive (Arrow TV 2012), Strangers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithimpossibility/pseuds/inlovewithimpossibility
Summary: As pressure surrounding his Bratva initiation worsens, Oliver struggles to keep his head above water. An hour at a coffee shop, a blonde barista with pink tips in her hair, and a simple handwritten note helps to remind him of the beauty in the world.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: cerys' quarantine and chill fics [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667249
Comments: 48
Kudos: 218
Collections: Quarantine and Chill Fic Drive 2020





	something to live for

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my fulfillment of the prompt 'coffee shop au' for the Q&C Fic Drive. It's a short but slightly different take on the prompt. It's set in Russia when Oliver is going through his Bratva initiation so this is a TRIGGER WARNING for some dark and bordering on suicidal thoughts from Oliver's POV as well as some light descriptions of violence. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please let me know if you do by leaving a kudos and/or comment, they really do make my day. 
> 
> Stay safe, wash your hands, stay inside if you can. I hope that you and yours are all healthy and doing well, and a huge thank you to all the essential workers keeping the world turning <3

Oliver knew from the get-go that his trip to Krasnoyarsk wasn’t going to be a light vacation.

He had a plan to exact revenge and that doesn’t exactly equate with an enjoyable time.

Despite that, Oliver never could’ve imagined how much darkness he’s found himself surrounded by. The Bratva is a whole other world, one where morals and the general rules that dictate society do not apply. Oliver’s seen a lot over the past four years and he’s endured even more, but the person he’s becoming under the Bratva’s guidance is someone he doesn’t even recognise. The weight of that darkness weighs heavily on his shoulders and Oliver doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to lift it, the gravity of what he’s doing to become a part of this deadly organisation feels like it’s something that will stick with him forever.

Each day brings a new challenge and it’s all Oliver can do to stay alive. It’s a battle of his wills as much as it is a battle of his body and he can feel himself slipping deeper and deeper each day.

He gets out once a day, walking the streets of the safer neighbourhood in Krasnoyarsk so as to not be ambushed or it be reported back those in charge. He likes the time to clear his head and breathe the fresh air, but more often that not, he settles in a small coffee shop on the street corner.

It’s not very big and he doesn’t really know what draws him to it. The coffee is alright and the baristas are kind enough. He’s often served by a smiley girl with bright pink tips at the end of her hair whose Russian sounds slightly American to Oliver. Mostly, it’s just about being somewhere that reminds him of the normal world and what he’s doing this for.

He doesn’t interact, he barely even looks up from his cup of coffee, but just being surrounded by people who aren’t working for the Russian mob helps Oliver to ground himself and remember why he wants to stay in this world.

The trip to the coffee shop has been his routine for around a month when he’s sat in his usual corner, nursing his plain black coffee and breathing in the bustling environment of life and caffeine. Today, however, when he lifts the napkin the barista handed over with his coffee, he frowns when he notices writing on the other side.

He turns it over and his eyebrows rise in surprise at the sight of a handwritten note. The writing is small and neat, looped delicately as if deliberate thought has been put into it, and he frowns as he sits back in his chair, reading through the small gesture of kindness.

_To the surly American in the corner,_

_That cut looks nasty, you should get it checked out._

_You’re in here a lot but you never want to talk, so I thought I’d let you know that you have an ear in me if you want it. Not in me obviously, because that would be gross, but you’re welcome to talk to me. It’s clear there’s something weighing on you. _

_Here’s something that might cheer you up. Did you know that in Switzerland, it’s actually illegal to only own one guinea pig? They’re such social creatures and they get lonely so it’s actually the law there that you have to own more than one. I read that earlier and it made me smile to know that the guinea pigs in Switzerland are safe with their friends, so I hope it might cheer you up too._

_I’m Felicity, by the way. The pink-haired barista who makes your coffee every day. I’m also American, though you could probably tell that from my bad Russian accent. I just can’t get the hang of those ‘R’s!_

_I know you might not want to talk or even reply to this but if this did help and you would like another note next time you come in, take the napkin with you. If you leave it on the table, I won’t bother you again._

_Your friendly neighbourhood barista,_

_Felicity :)_

Oliver blinks, looking over at the counter to see that the blonde and pink-haired barista is looking at him with a small smile. He expects her to look away when he catches her staring but instead, her lips curl into a soft smile and she gives him a gentle wave before she slowly makes her way back over to the coffee machine. It’s a rare gesture of warmth and Oliver feels it cut through him as he realises just how long it’s been since he’s felt that kind of warmth, especially from someone with no ulterior motives or in search of retribution of any kind.

Oliver finds himself watching her in curiosity.

It’s funny, he finds himself now searching for what a person wants and how they might bring him harm when he meets them, but with Felicity, he can’t even fathom such a thought. There’s something so genuine about her and he just _knows_ that this is just who she is; someone lovely who just wants to bring him a little piece of joy.

She’s a human, not a threat.

He also can’t help but note that she’s gorgeous.

Oliver knows that romance isn’t the point of his time here and it’s not as if he could drag her into his mess, but he’s still a man and he can still appreciate that fact that she’s beautiful. Dark makeup are her eyes emphasise their bright blue colour and her warm blonde hair fades into the bright pink tips that draws the eye even from across the room. She’s dressed in a pink flannel shirt and black jeans, a style that is only emphasised by the piercing in her eyebrow and septum. She’s certainly not the type of girl Oliver ever found himself going for before the Gambit sank, but he’s also nowhere near the boy he was then.

He cannot help but smile genuinely. Despite her punk rock look, sunshine radiates out of Felicity and it’s honestly infectious. Oliver hasn’t been so affected in a positive way in over four years.

So, of course, when he stands to leave the coffee shop, he scoops up the napkin and takes it with him, turning as he reaches the door to see Felicity grinning to herself proudly. It makes him smile to himself before he schools his expression as he steps outside.

Oliver doesn’t know what it is about her, but he just wants to know more.

And it’s that want for more that brings him back to the coffee shop the next day, and the day after that, and every day from there on out.

Felicity’s notes are always sweet and include widely varying ‘fun facts’. He learns through Felicity that the oldest ‘your mom’ joke was found on a tablet from ancient Babylon, heart attacks increase by 20% on Mondays worldwide, and that honeybees can recognise human faces.

He finds the things he most looks forward to, however, are what he learns about her through her notes. He learns that she hates kangaroos, that she’s originally from Vegas, that she’s secretly a tech wiz, and that the blonde portion of her hair is also dyed.

She never tries to talk to him and Oliver is grateful for that. He doesn’t know what he’d tell her if she asked him what brings him to Russia or why he spends an hour every day in the coffee shop she works at. Honestly, he doesn’t feel worthy of talking to someone as wonderful as Felicity right now, but greedily, he finds himself coming back every day to buy his coffee and collect her note. She hands it over each day with a warm smile and her bad attempt at an affectionate wink which is so endearing.

His time with the Bratva only gets more intense; he’s led to do unspeakable things and Oliver feels himself slipping deeper into the darkness with every day that passes. He does unrepentable things, cementing his perspective of himself as a monster. As he finds himself surrounded only by fear, darkness, and pain, the one thing that keeps him going is his trip to the coffee shop, Felicity, and notes. When he finds himself thinking that perhaps it would just be easier to turn the weapon on himself, he forces himself to think of Felicity and what tomorrow’s note might bring. The image of her smiling at him as the sun dances through the window to shine through her blonde and bright pink hair helps him to keep going, to just survive so that he can reach her.

After one particularly difficult day, he’s struggling to breathe as Felicity hands over the coffee and note-bearing napkin, trying with all his might to forget the way the Bratva’s victims had screamed in the early hours of the morning. It seems so selfish of him to be here right now but he needs it, he needs to see Felicity, to read her words and remind himself of the light and sweetness that still exists in the world. He doesn’t deserve her kindness, but he needs it right now.

“Are you okay?” She suddenly asks him and Oliver’s eyes fly up to hers in surprise. He hasn’t heard her speak English before and, though he’s been imagining how her voice in the soft and slightly broken Russian he has heard would sound in her native tongue, hearing it is something else completely. Her voice is sweet and full of concern, matching the deep worry he can see in her beautiful eyes.

Oliver forces himself to take a deep breath and he manages a small quirk of his lips before he takes her offerings and heads over to his usual seat. He basically ignores the coffee, as he does most days, and concentrates on Felicity’s handwriting.

Her note isn’t about much. Her fun fact for the day is that sea otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t drift away from each other which she claims is ‘about the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard’. It doesn’t matter to Oliver that her note is about practically nothing, the easy tone and amusing narrative she weaves throughout it has its usual calming effect on him and by the time he reaches the end of her note, his breathing has finally returned to normal and he feels a little lighter.

It’s baffling to him how something as simple as a note from his barista can make him feel so much better but he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the need to let Felicity know just how important her notes have become to his life.

Turning the napkin over, he reaches for the pen he keeps in his cargo pants pocket, and starts to write. He doesn’t really know what he wants to say but the words flow easily from his hand as he starts, he hadn’t realised he had so many thoughts, but it feels good to just get them out.

_Felicity,_

_It’s odd to be doing this, this way around, but I just need to let you know how important your notes have become to me over the past few weeks. I can’t tell you much, which I know isn’t fair seeing as you’ve been so open and kind sharing yourself with me through these notes. Please know that it’s for your safety far more than it is from a reluctance to share on my part._

_My life at the moment is far from what I’d like it to be. My main objective for the past few years has just been to survive, to get through the day so that one day, I might be able to be released from the darkness that has somehow started to follow me around. In the past months, that darkness has only worsened, and I have found myself struggling to keep my head above water._

_That is until you handed me that first note a few weeks ago. I’ve been struggling to see people as people, and not just threats and weapons, but you changed that with your simple act. I know you think your facts and small pieces of information about you are trivial, but the chance to learn more both about the world and about you has been one of the only things keeping me going in the past weeks. Your candour and warmth, even through your writing, has had a such a profound impact on me and I need you to know that._

_Thank you so much. Thank you for your facts and for sharing these small pieces of your life. Thank you for always offering me a smile and for never pushing me into talking or even acknowledging you. You are such a bright spot in a very dark world and I am so thankful to you, I just need you to know that._

_Thank you from the surly American in the corner._

_You are truly remarkable, and I am so grateful to be in the presence of your light._

_Oliver_

Taking a deep breath, Oliver places the napkin to the side as he comes to the end of his note and he takes his usual time to make his way through his cup of coffee. When he’s finished, he stands from his seat and approaches the counter, placing his empty coffee cup on the side and attracting the attention of Felicity.

“Oh, did you want a refill?” She asks him, smiling warmly at him and Oliver just shakes his head, reaching for the napkin and handing it back to her with the side of his own writing facing up. Surprise registers on her face and she looks up at him with the obvious question in her eyes.

“Thank you.” Oliver manages to tell her softly before he turns and leaves the coffee shop, leaving the pink-haired sunbeam of a barista clutching the napkin with her brow furrowed. 


End file.
